


The Fundamental Nature of Happiness

by AvatarMi_Chan



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Bill is a pianist, Dipper plays tuba, Fluff, Has this been done yet?, Human!Bill, M/M, Older!Dipper, and need adorable romance between musicians, because I am in a cute mood right now, each chapter will have a song to go with it, fluff&morefluff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-19
Updated: 2016-03-19
Packaged: 2018-05-27 15:07:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,085
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6289381
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AvatarMi_Chan/pseuds/AvatarMi_Chan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One day after band practice, Dipper accidentally leaves his sheet music at the theatre and returns to find that the stage is currently being used by none other than the piano prodigy Bill Cipher. But what happens when he discovers that the man behind the music is not nearly as sweet as what he creates.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Fundamental Nature of Happiness

Dipper Pines used to think that happiness was like a physical force - constant and unyielding, pushing people towards the future as if guided by some sort of divine providence. Happiness could be seen, from the corner of your eye, if you looked at a person just right.

It was easy enough to find happiness, if you looked hard enough.

It was a color all its own, flowing in and out of form, twisting shape until it became a kaleidoscope of moment after moment, spinning round and round.

Happiness was a child playing tag, and if you chased it and chased it with all you might you’d catch it somehow or another and fall, laughing, into the light, melancholy unknown.

*******************

“Crap! I left my sheet music at the theatre!” These were the words that would change Dipper Pines’ life forever. After practice, he had joined his bandmates in their usual trip to old town for dinner, and upon arriving back at his car had discovered he had forgotten the bright yellow folder he kept his music in.

Needless to say, he had no choice but to return to the theatre and grab it.

It had just begun to rain, and Dipper’s small dark car sped through the emptying city streets down towards town square. It was easy to spot the theatre even in spite of the rain – it was a large baroque style building lined with glittering lights that shone out like beacons through the deep blue-green darkness. It was like something straight out of Paris, and more than once his sister Mabel had commented on how much she wished she could go there as often as Dipper did.

Parking his car in the empty parking lot, Dipper cursed himself for not grabbing an umbrella that morning – his sister had warned him of the rain, after all, and they did live in piedmont for god’s sake. Slamming his door shut, he ran through the onslaught of droplets to the gilded face of the theater building – feeling the heavy drizzle immediately soak through his shirt and plaster his hair to his face. For a moment it struck him that the building could very well be locked up for the night, which would mean all his effort was in vain, but thankfully the door clicked open and he was immediately graced with a gust of warm air. Letting the door fall shut behind him, he ran damp fingers through his hair, brushing at his drenched clothing as if to brush away the encroaching wetness which made his usual flannel stick uncomfortably to his skin.

Realizing there was no hope – he’d be running back through the storm in the next ten minutes anyway – Dipper turned his attentions to the quite brightness of the theatre. As he headed through the wide, open area - with its vaulted ceilings dotted with crystalline chandeliers and tile polished to an almost reflective gleam - his footsteps echoed about him in the silence, accompanied with the ghosting of distant music.

“That’s strange, I didn’t think anyone else was signed up to practice here after us.” Dipper murmured to himself. Still, he couldn’t help but focus in on the soft, melodic sound – so gentle it could barely be heard in the carnivorous silence.

His hand closed around the door handle, and upon opening it Dipper was immediately greeted by the breathtaking tones of the piano. He had to pause for a moment, completely taken aback by the melancholic notes, which seemed to sink into his chest and sit their heavily. A flurry of emotions overwhelmed him, sweeping his mind away to an almost familiar tune which made his heart ache in longing for something long beyond memory.

Letting the door close softly behind him, Dipper’s gaze fell on the large grand piano which sat center stage, alit only by the soft golden hues of the stage lights. The black lacquer gleamed wistfully, an eye catching sight indeed, but the massive instrument paled in splendor before its virtuoso. Flaxen locks bobbed pensively to the ensuing notes, jaw set and face forlorn. He emanated energy, and even from his position by the doors the emotions flooding off of the other man swept around Dipper in a dreamy way – like fallen leaves forced onto their toes and sent careening by the wind. Dipper’s breath caught in his throat at the resplendent sight – he felt as if he were intruding on something secret, something intimate. The thought immediately brought heat to his cheeks. Still, he couldn’t stop now, so his feet began to carry him through the shadowy aisles like a wayward star drawn towards the sublime luminance of the sun.

The song began to near its end, signaled by the final notes which seemed to wring out through the room, resonating long after they were played and settling around Dipper with an almost yearning weight.

It was, without a doubt, the most beautiful thing the brunette had ever heard.

“That was amazing!” He called, hopping up onto the stage. The pianist, who had been sitting in thoughtful silence up until that point, turned his gaze on Dipper, his eyes widening. “I’ve never heard anything so beautiful.” Dipper added with an easy smile, extending his hand towards the stranger.

“The name’s Dipper Pines.” The blonde haired man eyed his hand, eyebrow raising an eyebrow as he turned his gaze up to the waiting boy.

“I don’t generally give free performances. Consider yourself fortunate.” He responded bluntly, brushing Dipper’s hand aside as he stood. Dipper felt a slight twinge of annoyance, but brushed it aside.

“Oh really? Then do you preform often? That’s cool.” He leaned nonchalantly against the side of the piano, earning another harsh look from the pianist. He had different colored eyes, Dipper noticed. One Dark brown, and one light, almost amber in hue.

Beautiful.

“Yes. Quite often in fact.” He turned on Dipper, raising an eyebrow condescendingly. “And what about you, is it your hobby to come and spy on others?” He asked, and Dipper felt another wave of anger, this time making his smile falter.

“No, it’s just, well, you play so well and…” He trailed. The blonde snorted, rolling his eyes.

“That doesn’t really explain why you came here in the first place. You don’t look like a musician.” He replied, eyeing Dipper’s dripping clothes and chaotic hair.

That did it. His vision of the man shattered, giving way like stained glass beneath a boulder. Dipper had only been trying to be nice. He hadn’t done anything to earn this man’s ire, and he was most certainly not going to put up with it.

“Oh really, then do tell me exactly what a musician looks like. Because judging from what you’re wearing, I’m guessing it’s something along the lines of a disco ball knock off.” He retorted, referring to the bedazzled bow tie and shimmering golden skinny jeans the other was wearing. For a moment the blonde looked taken aback, before his face settled into an almost predetorial smirk.

“Well, not a lumberjack wanna-be, that’s for certain.”

“I’d rather be a lumberjack than a party decoration any day.”

“At least party decorations have a little class.” The man’s smile was slowly widening with every response Dipper gave, his eyes glinting mischievously.

“Yeah, but unlike you, party decorations are also quite.” Dipper spit, face now cherry red with anger and brown eyes hard as he glared the other man down. He couldn’t believe moments before he’d actually thought this guy, well, good looking.

Now all he saw was an asshole.

A notion that was only furthered when the blonde suddenly and inexplicably burst into laughter.

“Oh, good one!” He managed between the high pitched peals, bending over to slap his knee. Dipper watched on, slightly shocked at the unexpected reaction, but unwilling to relent in his glaring.

Then, after what seemed like an eternity the other man began to calm down. Straightening, he eyed Dipper fondly, a small smile on his lips as he glanced the increasingly nervous brunette over.

“Dipper Pines, eh? Pines, Pines… Ah!” He snapped his fingers, eyes glinting. “Pine tree!”

“Excuse me?”

“It’s a nickname, kid.” The man chuckled, as if he were explaining something obvious to a child. “By the by, the names William. William Cipher. But you,” he reached out to tap Dipper on the nose, startling the brunette and making his pale cheeks dust with rose. “…can call me Bill.”

Dipper was unimpressed.

And annoyed.

Really, he was. And he was tired of dealing with this weirdo – no matter how beautiful his music was it didn’t make up for this.

“Sure.” He stated blankly, before brushing William, or Bill, or whatever his name was, out of the way in favor of walking towards the back to grab his forgotten sheet music. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I should probably get what I came for and leave.”

Bill’s face fell in an almost comic fashion, his lower lip jutting out in an exaggerated pout.

“Ah, Pine Tree, don’t be like that.” He huffed, following Dipper backstage. The brunette’s eyes immediately fell upon his folder, which he moved to pick up. Bill intercepted him, however, taking the folder for himself and dancing away from Dipper’s grasping hands with light laughter.

“That’s mine!” Dipper grit out, chasing Bill through the labyrinth of darkened pillars and curtains. The blonde was significantly faster than Dipper, being taller and more lithe in frame than the brunette, who was of medium height and had inherited the Pines’ family’s larger and more masculine frame.

“Oh, Tuba eh?” Bill cackled, flitting through the papers with a sly smirk. “So I was right, you aren’t a musician.”

“Excuse me?” Dipper hissed, snatching his folder from the other man and clutching it against his chest. “Who are you anyway? What makes you think you have the right to just… to just…” Dipper cut himself off with a frustrated sigh, reaching up to run a hand through dark curls which had now more or less dried.

“Who am I? Well, that’s for me to know, and you to figure out my little Pine Tree.” Bill responded easily, ignoring Dipper’s obvious anger. The brown eyed boy shook his head, deciding it was best just to let it go. It wasn’t as if he were ever going to see this man again anyway.

“Okay. Yeah, I’ll do that.” He responded, voice dripping with disdain as he pulled out his phone to check the time. It looked like his sister had texted him a few times. He probably should respond, he didn’t want to keep Mabel worried.

Typing in his pass code, Dipper was about to go to messages when suddenly his phone was swiped from his hand.

“Mabel? That’s a cute name. I like it.” Bill said, staring at the screen of Dipper’s phone. The brunette started, ears growing red with anger.

Did this man have no manners at all? Seriously, it was utterly infuriating!

“That’s mine.” He stuck out his hand for Bill to return the stolen item, but the blonde simply continued to type away.

“Patience, Pine Tree. It’s a virtue you know, so I suppose it is a credit to your personality that you don’t have any. There.” He handed the phone to Dipper, who snatched it away and quickly began flicking through the screen, trying to see if Bill had done anything troublesome.

“What did you do?” He asked when he didn’t find anything. There was the muffled sound of someone screaming- which made Dipper start, much to Bill’s amusement - and Bill pulled out his own phone, holding it up to see the number written across the screen there.

It was Dipper’s.

Great.

“Just putting my number in your phone. Don’t want to lose touch, after all.” Bill chortled. There were a lot of things Dipper wanted to say, most of them involving numerous curse words and unsavory phrases aimed at Bill’s character, but instead he just met that heterochromatic gaze and said:

“That is a god awful ringtone.”

Bill beamed “You flatter me.”

They walked the remaining way back to the entrance to the theater in silence, and Dipper was glad to see the downpour had slowed to a gentle drizzle. Tucking his folder beneath his shirt, Dipper darted out into the cold and the darkness towards his lone car, but not before Bill’s voice reached him over the sound of the drizzle.

“See you again, Pine tree!” He keened, and Dipper felt his chest sink.

He hoped not.

**Author's Note:**

> I was playing that piano tiles game on my phone and thought: what if Bill was a pianist and Dipper played tuba and they met and fell in love and each chapter was named after a piano piece?  
> Well, they haven't fallen yet, but give it time, give it time.


End file.
